One Last Trip
by Movie Chic
Summary: The tenth doctor has said his goodbyes except for one. Is it too late to tell her that he loves her?


He closed the TARDIS doors with a firm thud. Leaning against the door, he could still hear Donna yelling orders to her bridal party. She had a good man, and now they'd never have to worry about money. It was the best life he could leave her with; he owed her so much more.

There. Another wave of regeneration energy threatened to spill out, and like bile, he forced it down. He was only delaying the inevitable- he knew that, but by the stars he was going to hold on to himself as long as possible. _Even,_ he thought as he looked around, _even if everyone else was gone._

Compared to the ruckus outside, the TARDIS was echoingly quiet with the reverent hush of an old church. The TARDIS knew and waited. "Where do I go now?" he whispered to her. His goodbyes were done. There was only one person who wouldn't get one. Couldn't get one. And it was the one he wished he could say the most.

Then, it came to him. His shuffled steps to the console were painfully slow. Another energy wave hit him as he was changing the settings. Unable to see, he reached for the lever and pulled. The jolt nearly threw him to the floor, and his fingers shook as they held onto whatever was close. Even as the wave passed, he couldn't see the monitor from where he hunched. He could only hope he was going back early enough.

What could he say to her? She wouldn't know him. She would have no idea how important she was. He wanted to say those words that had failed to come so many times. He could say it now; it burned in his throat. But it would mean nothing to her. He would only be able to watch. If it was the last thing he saw, he wanted it to be that blonde hair, brown eyes, and brilliant smile.

* * *

They were gone. The apartment lights were off. He could tell from the decorations in the street that it must be around New Years. He resigned himself to wait for them to get back, but the energy waves were getting harder and harder to push back. How long did he have to wait? What if he couldn't hold out?

He got back in the TARDIS and moved it- into their apartment living room. He wanted to at least remember what it had been like for all of them to be together. He could picture them around the table eating Christmas dinner or whatever awful food Jackie cooked when they came back to visit. The door to her room was open down the hall. He stepped into it.

Her presence jumped out from everything. Her clothes were strewn all over the floor. Her desk was covered in notes with her handwriting. He spotted the bottle of perfume she always wore. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Whose haggard face and tired eyes were those?

It was almost time, and yet what he wanted most in the entire universe was to start everything over again. It hurt to know that in such a short time she would be starting their adventures- but for him, it was done.

Regret overwhelmed every other emotion. He'd had so many chances to tell her. So many! But no, he'd left it unsaid and assumed his actions spoke for him. Maybe they had, but he knew now it wasn't the same. Worse yet, he- not he himself, but he- had spoken those words to her. He had gotten to stay with her forever, but he himself had not.

His downcast eyes spotted her blue sweater. It was the one she would eventually wear on that terrible day their separation first began. It gave him an idea. It was an impossible idea. An incredibly selfish idea. If it went wrong, it would ruin their entire time-stream. But by Gallifrey! He was going to do it anyway.

* * *

He watched the snowflakes fall to the ground, actual real snowflakes. They had already covered his footprints in the street. They made all the normal street noise hushed. It was so peaceful. You'd never know he was dying.

Then he heard it, and his hearts that had started to slow down began to pound.

"It's late now. I've missed it. Midnight. Mickey's going to be calling me, and everything. This is your fault," she complained to her mother.

They walked by the TARDIS unaware. Even if they weren't in the middle of a fight, the strange blue box sitting on a corner would mean nothing to them. He stood there listening, not so much to what they were arguing about but just enjoying the cadence of her voice.

"Happy New Year!" They exclaimed to each other.

"Don't stay up to late," he heard her warn her mother, and Jackie's retort made him smile, "Try and stop me."

Her footsteps got louder crunching the snow until she came into view around the corner. He was far enough around the corner that she didn't see him in her peripheral vision. He was just going to stand there without ever saying anything to her. However, another energy wave tried to force its way up his throat, and he couldn't stop the groan.

She turned, "You all right, mate?" She never could stand something being in pain.

"Ya," he assured her quickly. He didn't want her to come to close.

"Too much to drink?" her look was simultaneously sympathizing and scolding.

"Something like that," he returned. If only it were that.

"Maybe it's time you went home," she suggested.

"Ya."

"Anyway…," she tried to cheer him up, "happy New Year!" And there was that smile he always thought of.

"And you," he wished her. She turned around and began to walk toward the apartment building. He needed to just let her go, but he couldn't. He wanted more time.

"What year is this?" he spoke up. It worked, and she turned with a look of surprise.

"Blimey! How much have you had?"

He shook his head.

"2005, January the first," she laughed.

"2005," he acknowledged. It was even closer than he had imagined. He could tell their conversation was almost at a close. What could he tell her that would give her hope that her life would become so much better than just working in a shop day after day? Tears were distorting his view of her, and someone was squeezing his throat as he continued, "Tell you what, I bet you're going to have a really great year."

The mannequins, the end of earth, ghosts, Daleks - all of it. He remembered it as if it were yesterday. All of them were his yesterdays, and they were her tomorrows. And it was going to be… fantastic.

She smiled, "Ya?"

He couldn't help but return that smile, and he hoped it look more like a smile than a grimace. The pain was beginning to rise again.

She almost turned to go but returning with one last smile, she added, "See ya."

He smiled at her retreating form as she ran to the apartment. She looked back just once as she began to climb the stairs.

He didn't have to hold in his tears anymore, but pain abruptly drowned any sorrow. He began to stagger toward the TARDIS. The world seemed to be spinning as he balanced himself against the brick wall. The TARDIS came into view around the corner. Its lights glowed warmly and welcomingly onto the snow, but one thought consumed him. _I don't want to go._

* * *

She peered out the window, and the sight made her smile. Jack was going to be just as handsome as his daddy, if not equally as good looking as his namesake. She put her hand on her stomach. He hoped their daughter would look just like her.

She returned to her task of boxing up old clothes that no longer fit. The next item on the pile was her old blue sweater. The sight of it brought back awful memories of being stuck here in the first place, but never in all the time since had she been able to throw it out.

As her habit was, she dug through the pockets looking for trash or things. She pulled out several candy wrappers, money, and a blue post-it note. She threw the wrappers away, pocketed the money, and was about to throw the post-it note away when she suddenly realized that the folded piece of paper had her name on it. She stared at it, as if seeing it for the first time. She was sure that she had taken it out of her pocket when she'd washed the jacket in the past, but it had always gone back in the pocket afterward. She couldn't recall ever reading it before. It had always seemed like just a worthless piece of paper. But if it was, why had she never thrown it away?

She examined her name on the front. The handwriting was so familiar. It almost looked like her husband's, but it couldn't be. The note was much older than that. It was faded and creased. Suddenly curious, she opened it. It read:

 _Rose Tyler,_

 _I love you. I always have, and I always will._

Underneath was signed a name. She knew the name. She'd learned it on the day she got married.


End file.
